


And Then What Happened?

by Dani



Category: Mighty Boosh (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-20
Updated: 2010-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-13 20:44:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/141554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dani/pseuds/Dani
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story takes place within the universe of Boosh Live 2006, immediately after the events of the stage show,making the assumption that the stage show actually had a fourth wall and adapting thusly. It takes further canonical details from the TV series, and essentially asks "What happens after Howard and Gregg's little makeout scene?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Then What Happened?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thursday_Next](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thursday_Next/gifts).



            He had to admit he enjoyed it a little more than he thought he would.  Old Gregg might have been a bit...unusual to look at, but when Howard pulled him into what he hoped was a convincingly romantic and expert kiss, the reciprocation was not altogether unpleasant.  He didn’t even mind so much that the tongue caressing his own was cold, or that it tasted, unexpectedly, of bacon.  Actually, the flavour had been something of a pleasant surprise, too, until he remembered that survival book he’d read, in which he’d learned that human meat tasted of pork.  He pushed it out of his mind for the sake of his own mental and emotional well-being, and concentrated instead on moving his hand to sexily fondle Gregg’s right arse-cheek.  He assumed it was taken as sexy, anyway, from the pleased little noise the merman made.

            The kiss was broken off hastily, however, when some drunken partiers stumbled past their alleyway and spotted them, whistling and cheering for the amorous couple.  As Gregg strutted after them to brag about the surprise Howard had promised him, Howard, swallowing his embarrassment, seized the opportunity and zipped to the back of the alley, to the southeast corner of the Nabootique.

            “It’s still here,” he panted, “Thank God!”

            The Wheelbarrow. Covered in Vince’s cartoonish paintings, it had become somewhat infamous throughout most of London back in a time when Vince still took Howard to parties with him. The pair had originally used it, innocently enough, to cart crates of alcopops, bags of snacks, and a few extra outfits and accessories for Vince, in case a new fashion wave should strike mid-party. But then the two of them would inevitably drink themselves past the point of coherence, and Howard would start offering barrow rides to the ladies, who would quite frankly overreact and run away screaming.  According to Vince, it had more to do with the way he phrased his offers than the actual offer itself.

            “Come on, you cheeky vixen, get in me wheelbarrow.”

            It seemed to work well enough on Gregg, who beamed as he settled himself into the barrow. Then again, Howard mused, Old Gregg seemed to believe that Howard continuing to have a pulse was a form of seduction.

            Their impromptu audience seemed to recognize the barrow, likely because it had made an appearance in several newspapers and magazines, and likely the internet as well.  Someone had taken a picture of Howard and Vince asleep in it the morning after a particular disaster of a party.  Vince, curled up in the barrow, had awakened with several phone numbers written on his arms.  Howard, draped over Vince and the barrow like a fleshy blanket, had awakened with several cocks scrawled all over his face.  They’d both blacked out the events of the party itself, but Vince had been told later that one of the leading style columnists for Cheekbone, Jenny Jenny[1], had been an honoured guest at the party, and one of Howard’s unwitting targets that evening, as well. In her haste to get away from the slobbering drunk with the weird little wagony-thing, one of her trademark ten-inch heels snapped, and she broke both her wrists when she hit the ground.  For the next several weeks, she was unable to write her column, throwing the fashion world into utter chaos.

            Vince stopped taking him to parties after that.  But the wheelbarrow remained a symbol of sexual perversion in the minds of the young and trendy, and was thus met with more hooting and catcalls as Howard wheeled Old Gregg away.

            “Where we goin’, Howard?” asked Gregg. “Where you takin’ Old Gregg? Where we gonna make our love nest, huh?”

            “That’s part of the surprise, Gregg,” Howard replied. He had a hard time meeting the merman’s eyes: partly from terror, and partly from guilt. He knew where he was taking him, all right; he just hoped he’d make it there.

 

            Vince had stayed longer at the party than he’d planned. His intention, originally, was just to put in an appearance, give the party his blessing, make sure Naboo, Bollo and Mr. Fossil were having a good time (and therefore well distracted), and duck out back to the flat, and back to Howard, who’d be so surprised to see him come back early from the party, just for him. That had been the plan. And, he reasoned, it could still work, even if he did stick around at the party for that extra hour. He couldn’t help it: they’d brought out the Jell-o shots, and Vince couldn’t say no to Jell-o shots. All that wiggly fruity fun that made his tummy feel warm. And then his favourite five songs came on all in a row, and he had to dance to them. He _had_ to! It was a physical compulsion he couldn’t fight, like blinking. He just lost track of time, was all. As soon as he got off the dance floor, he remembered Howard and got right out of there…after a quick chat with a girl he recognized from Topshop, because it was always good to have connections with the staff.

            So he got home, only to find the whole place completely dark. At first he thought maybe Howard had decided to go to bed early. It made sense, after all they’d just gone through: looking for that ruby and meeting yetis and being murdered and all that. Vince was pretty tired, himself, if he was honest. After confirming that nobody was in the living area, he traipsed to their bedroom and opened the door to poke his head in.

            “Howard?” he whispered into the dark. There was no answer, and the light of the moon shining on the bed revealed no sleepy lump beneath the sheets.

            Maybe he was in the bathroom.

            So Vince looked there. He checked behind the shower curtains, thinking maybe Howard had got scared by a cockroach and hid in the tub.  It’d happened before. In his defence, though, the cockroach _was_ six feet tall, and _had_ threatened to break his shins.

            He wasn’t there, though. Nor was he under the sink or in the toilet bowl, or trapped in any cabinets. He wasn’t in Naboo and Bollo’s room, either. After searching the whole place, Vince had to conclude that Howard wasn’t home.

             “Maybe he went to pick up groceries,” he mumbled to himself as he seated himself on the sofa. “I’ll just wait here. That way it’ll be even more surprising.”  A smile grew on his face. “Yeah! It’ll be like I was here all along! …Depending on if he was ever here and how long ago he left, that is.”

            He waited, patiently, for what felt like hours, but which was really only about forty-eight seconds. After that, worry (and boredom) set in.

            “Something’s not right,” he decided.

            For one thing, Howard never went out for groceries this late at night, because he said the after-dark shoppers were too creepy. Either they were like zombies, shuffling around with dark circles under their glazed, dead-looking eyes, or they would approach him uninvited, and try to talk him into very illegal-sounding business.

            And if he wasn’t shopping, then there was very little else he could have been doing, because everyone they knew that he could think of was either at the party or hated Howard. Or both.

            “Something must’ve happened to him.” It wasn’t said with any sense of panic, exactly. Things happened to the two of them so regularly that the statement “something must’ve happened to him” was about equivalent to “I think he’s brushing his teeth.” Nevertheless, it did move him to his feet and toward the stairs. Maybe if he found Howard quickly enough, he could get back to the business of surprising him.

 

            It was a long journey on foot, especially with his only company being a horny sea creature who might also be a serial killer.

            “Where we goin’, Howard?” Gregg asked for the thirty-fourth time. “We goin’ back to Gregg’s place?”

            “No, Gregg. I think that’s a little too far out of the way for tonight.”

            “Why can’t we go back to your place, Howard?”

            “My, uh…my landlord is pretty strict about bringing guests home at night.”

            “You should get a new place,” said Gregg. “We could get ourselves a bungalow, together. I’d let you bring home guests every night, Howard. I’m Old Gregg.”

            “That’s very nice of you.”

            “We could take turns whippin’ ‘em.”

            “…That’s not really my style, I’m afraid.”

            “I understand. You’re a one-fish man. Once you’ve had Old Gregg, you don’t want nothin’ else.”

            “That’s right.”

            “You’re a romantic, Howard. That’s what I like about you. When we’re married, I promise to be faithful. My mangina’s all yours, forever.”

            The words, strange as the source was, were peculiarly moving for Howard. He’d never had anyone say that kind of thing to him before, really.

            “Thanks, Gregg. I appreciate that.” He meant it sincerely.

            “And if you ever run around on me, I’m gonna rip out all your organs through your bellybutton, and live inside your hollowed-out shell like a hermit crab.”

            Moment over, terror returned. “Good to know.”

            “I’m Old Gregg.”

            “I know.”

 

            Vince checked all of Howard’s favourite haunts: record stores, stationery shops, that one café that held poetry readings every other Thursday night. No sign of him anywhere, but as he was making his way back to Stumpy McFucky’s (maybe Howard had tried to crash the party), he passed the police station, out of which a familiar man was emerging into the night. His purple robe glittered under the street lamps.

            “Hey, Rudi!” Vince called with a wave. Rudi turned at the sound of (presumably only one of) his name(s), and, upon laying eyes on Vince, greeted him warmly.

            “Ah, Vince! You are looking well!”

            “Yeah, thanks. What’re you doing at the police station?”

            “Ah . . . Big Leg asked me to help with some paperwork. Give some statements, that sort of thing.”

            “Oh, yeah? Guess he’s gonna be calling us in for that later, then…hey, maybe that’s it!” Vince snapped his fingers and tugged on Rudi’s sleeve. “You didn’t happen to run into my friend Howard, in there, did you?”

            “The one with the trumpet sock? No, I’m afraid he’s not in there.”

            Vince’s shoulders slumped a little. “Oh, okay, then. Thanks anyway, Rudi.”

            Just as he was making to walk away, however, Rudi said, “I did _see_ him, however.  He walked past the window not half an hour ago, in fact.”

            “Really? Did you see where he was going?”

            Rudi’s robe fluttered in a sudden breeze. “Yes. He was headed south, pushing a wheelbarrow.”

            “A wheelbarrow?” Vince was surprised. Perhaps Howard had found a party after all?

            “Yes. Inside the barrow appeared to be a young lady. I didn’t catch her face, I’m afraid, just her legs in a pink skirt of some sort, and green leggings.”

            Vince felt something funny in his chest. It felt like a kind of burning tug at his heart and lungs, and it made him angry.  “Really.”

            “Yes…perhaps this would be of service to you.” For a moment, Rudi strained, and the door in his magnificent afro opened. A lady’s hand reached out and gave Vince a small telescope, then retreated back through the door, gently shutting it. Vince wondered whether the door was some portal to another realm, or if Rudi actually had a woman living in his hairstyle. But thinking of the lady in Rudi’s hair reminded him of the lady in Howard’s wheelbarrow, and he felt that angry feeling again. He lifted the telescope to his eyes, pointing it in the direction that Rudi had said Howard had gone. Instead of seeing merely a closer view of the buildings in the distance, the telescope seemed able to see past them, honing in on Howard’s position. He seemed to be pretty close to the Thames, and he _was_ pushing a wheelbarrow, though Vince could only see him from the back, so he couldn’t see who was riding in it.

            “Have you located your friend?”

“I have. Thanks again, Rudi.”

            “You’re very welcome.”

            “Is there any way I can repay you that doesn’t involve handling your balls?”

            Rudi thought on it for a moment.  “…Not really.”

            “All right.”

            “I’ll call you if I come up with anything.”

            “Yeah, okay,” he murmured, distractedly. He took off, southward, leaving Rudi on his own. As Rudi was watching him go, he felt a sudden kick to the underside of his left buttock. Turning to look behind him, he could see Big Leg’s leg, as well as another officer standing beside it. The officer handed him some paperwork.

            “There’s your copy of the restraining order. Remember: if we catch you within five hundred metres of that guitar shop—”

            “I keep telling you it was a misunderstanding!” Rudi protested. “I was shopping, I needed to use the toilet, I brought my intended purchase in with me, there was very little room, and—”

            “You became entangled. We know. Have a nice evening.”  Rudi thought he could hear the word “freak” muttered under the officer’s breath.

            Vince, meanwhile, had hailed a cab. A part of him thought he might as well just go on back to the party and forget about it, but then he’d get that tugging feeling in his chest again, and it made him feel the need to get to Howard and…do something. He wasn’t sure what yet. All he knew was that he’d gone to all the trouble of getting everyone out of their flat and out of their hair for one night so he could spend it alone with Howard, and he’d run off with some tart. He wasn’t just going to let that slide.

            “Where to?” asked the driver as Vince slipped into the back seat.

            Vince lifted the telescope to his eye again. “Just head south, I’ll instruct you from there.”

 

            The walk had taken over an hour. Howard’s feet were hurting, and Gregg’s predictions for their future together were growing ever more horrifying. Apparently they were to have children, which would require Howard to carry the spawnlings to term in a part of his body that he felt pretty sure was not well-adapted for carrying hybrid offspring.

            “They may try to eat their way out,” said Gregg. “But don’t worry: they’ll be so tiny at that age, you’ll probably survive it as long as we get ya to the doctors quick enough. Ya got two kidneys, right?”

            Howard had been silently weeping for the last twenty minutes.

            But hope stopped up the tears as soon as he laid eyes on the London Bridge. There, he would find salvation…one way or the other. He broke into a run, startling Gregg as his leisurely barrow ride suddenly doubled in speed.

            “Whoa there, my tiny-eyed stallion!” Gregg exclaimed. “Careful with Old Gregg, you almost spilled ‘im on the sidewalk!”

            “Oh, I wouldn’t do that with you,” Howard puffed, his eyes fixed on the bridge. His mind finished the thought. _I have better plans for where to spill you. …Wait. That doesn’t sound right. Guess it’s a good thing I’m not saying this out loud._

            He ignored his internal monologue and concentrated on running. His aching feet were smashing against the pavement so fast and so hard that he thought they’d explode any second, but he kept running, and he didn’t stop until they were halfway across the bridge, right over the water.  Finally, gasping for breath, he slowed to a stop, and braced himself against the rail.

            Gregg got out of the barrow and sidled up next to him. “Save some o’ that energy for tonight, Howard,” he said. “How much farther? I can’t wait to get my hands on you again.”

            Howard straightened up and sucked in a shaky breath before smiling, nervously, down at Gregg. “There’ll be time enough for that, sir,” he said. “But I thought you might appreciate a little moonlit stroll over the Thames.”  He gestured at the moon peeking out from between the clouds over the river. The moon smiled beatifically down upon them…then realized what he was looking at, cringed a little, and turned to look at something else instead.

            Gregg grinned and took Howard’s hand in his fin. “You really are a romantic,” he said. There was something in the shyness of the way he said it that once again managed to be somewhat endearing to Howard. It reminded him of those times when Vince would say something really sincere and heartfelt to him, with his big blue eyes shining up at him from under a slightly ducked head, wearing that bashful smile that Howard only ever seemed to see Vince use on him. He often felt proud of that: that Vince admired him so much that he occasionally felt timid in his presence. That _he_ – out of all the trendy It Girls and superstars Vince could effortlessly charm every day – he, Howard Moon, was the only person who could make the self-proclaimed King of the Mods feel unsure of himself. It was quite flattering, really.

            “Yeah, well.” Howard shook himself and offered Gregg his arm instead, in a gentlemanly fashion. “That’s just the kind of guy I am.”  He led them a few steps along, feeling conflicted. Maybe Old Gregg wasn’t such a bad guy. Sure, he had some strange hobbies, but who didn’t, really?

            “I remember the last time I went on a moonlit walk with an old fashioned gentleman,” said Gregg.

            “Yeah?”

            “Yeah. I had to get him buried before his wife and children found him. I did good: to this day they’ve only ever found the one eyeball.”

            Choking down a rising lump of panic and sick, Howard took Gregg in his arms and thrust him up against the cement barrier that stood between them and a long drop to the murky waters below. “Oh. Gregg,” he managed to cough up, “Being here with you, under the light of the moon, sharing our…stories. I just can’t handle myself.”

            “I know what you mean,” panted Gregg. “I feel it, too.”  Gregg’s webbed fingers tightened around Howard’s arms. “Take me here, Howard. Old Gregg doesn’t care who sees us! I’m Old Gregg!” Before Howard could say “I know,” Gregg’s cold, slimy lips were enveloping his again.

            As Gregg’s kiss grew more passionate, the gears in Howard’s mind were turning fast.  _Okay. He’s kissing me. He’s letting me lift him up to sit him on top of the barrier. Perfect…except now he’s wrapped his legs around me. I just have to get him to unclamp those and loosen the grip of his hands in my hair, and then all I’ve got to do is give him a good shove. One good push and he hits the water, and then maybe I can flag down that cab that’s headed this way and burn rubber out of here._

            Howard placed his hands on Gregg’s thighs, which tightened eagerly around him. He did his best to gently push them apart, running his hands down past Gregg’s knees to his calves and pulling less gently on them in an effort to dislodge himself from between them.

            “Oh, yes, Howard,” moaned Gregg, breaking the kiss. “I want you inside my mangina, right here and now!”

            Howard opened his mouth to reply, but what he’d planned to say got drowned out by the squeal of tires, followed by the sound of a car door opening and slamming shut, and someone shouting his name.

            “ _Howard!!_ ”

            Howard practically gave himself whiplash, swivelling his head around to address the newcomer.  “Vince!”

            At first he could barely make out his face, as his entire body was thrown into silhouette by the cab’s headlamps. But that silhouette was unmistakeably Vince’s: the platform boots, the sparkling outline of his mirrorball catsuit, the signature haircut. As he got closer, the moonlight lit up his features. Vince looked strangely upset. Then again, Howard supposed, seeing one’s best mate getting off with a sea creature probably wasn’t the most pleasant of images to come across. With the familiar flush of humiliation pouring over him, he wrenched himself free from Gregg’s embrace and found himself instinctively announcing, “It’s not what it looks like!”

            “’Not what it looks like’?!” Vince echoed, incredulously. “I’m lookin’ all over town for you, thinkin’ you’ve got yourself in danger again, only to find you here, suckin’ face with some bird!”

            “I wasn’t—look, I’m not with ‘some bird’,”

            “He’s with Old Gregg!” piped up Gregg, hopping down from his perch and smoothing out his skirt. “We’re engaged to be married, and we’re gonna live in Gregg’s house under the sea.”

            Vine stared, wide-eyed, at the merman for a long few minutes. Then, finally, he turned his gaze back on Howard, pointed at Gregg, and in a squeaking voice, demanded, “What the _fuck_ even _is_ that?!”

            “I’m Old Gregg!” said Gregg, helpfully.

            “Vince—”

            “Howard!” Vince closed the distance between them, and took Howard’s hand in his with a firm squeeze. “I know you’ve not had much luck in love, yeah? But _believe me_ ,” with another glance in Gregg’s direction, he lowered his voice in an attempt at courtesy and finished, “you can _do better._ ”

            “Vince, you don’t understand—”

            “Howard, who is this little bit of fluff, hmm?” asked Gregg with a tug at his arm. “Who’s this bony little glitterball? Is he bothering you? I can suck out his brain through his nose if ya want me to.”

            “He’s not bothering me, Gregg,” said Howard, through his teeth.

            “He best get his hands off my Howard,” said Gregg, with a menacing glower at Vince. “or I’m gonna hurt him.”

            Vince let go of Howard. He didn’t look scared, though. In fact, he still just looked angry and a little bit sad. “Yeah, don’t worry,” he told Gregg, without taking his eyes off Howard. “I’m done with him.”  He turned on his heel and started heading back to the cab.

            “Wait, Vince!”  Howard ran after him, feeling the returning panic rushing through his veins. “You don’t get it! I need—”

            “Yeah, I do get it.” Vince spun around to glare at Howard again. “You’d rather spend your time with Davy Jones over there than with me. That’s fine. Whatever.”

            Feeling defensive now, and not even really thinking clearly, Howard shot back, “Yeah? What about you? Throwing a big party and inviting everyone except me! I’m just supposed to accept that?!”

            “The party was a decoy, Howard. I threw it to get rid of everyone for the night so I could spend it with _you_.”

            “Yeah, I’m sure you did.”

            “It’s the truth!” The way his voice cracked as he said it, Howard found himself inclined to believe him. And he wasn’t sure, but he thought Vince’s eyes looked a little watery.

            “Howard, we fuckin’ _died._ When I woke up from that, my first thought was, ‘Where’s Howard?’ You were the first person I wanted to see. I wanted to know if you were all right. I had some Cockney nutter chop my fuckin’ head off. Do you know how scary that was?”

            “Well…yeah, actually. He did the same thing to me.”

            “Well, when I saw you were alive, too, you have no idea how happy I was. I felt safe again, ‘cause everything was right in the world again. And I was happy everyone else was okay, too, but I felt like…” He looked helpless for a moment, struggling with the words. “I felt like, if you hadn’t come back with everyone else, then I didn’t want to be alive, either. And I really like being alive, Howard!”

            Howard wouldn’t have been able to describe how he felt, if asked. ‘Touched’ was a massive understatement. His chest felt too small for his heart. “Vince…”

            “But I guess you didn’t feel that way.” Vince snuffled a bit. “So, whatever. Have fun with your…Old Gregg.”

            “Wait!” Howard reached out for Vince as he was turning away, but his arm was tugged back by Old Gregg.

            “Forget about him. He could never love you the way I do,” he said. “He can’t enfold you in the white light of a fishy mangina.”

            Howard violently shrugged Gregg’s arms off him. “Just fuck _off_ , will you?” he growled, before taking off after Vince again. He stopped him just as he was opening the cab door.

            “Vince, I _did_ feel the same!” he said, clambering over the metal railing that separated them. “What you described…that’s how I felt, too. A world without Vince Noir? That’s no world for Howard Moon.” He offered what he hoped was a charming smile.

            Vince did find it charming, because it was so awkward and anxious.

            “Come on, what’s a man of action without his colourful sidekick?”

            “Sidekick?” Vince laughed, in spite of himself. “Fuck off, you’re _my_ sidekick.”

            “Co-conspirators, how about that?”

            “Co-conspirators?”  Vince thought about that. “I like it. Like we’re spies.”

            “…You really wanted to spend the evening with me?” Howard asked, in all seriousness.

            “Yeah. I just…felt like I needed it.”

            “Why didn’t you just _tell_ me, then, instead of leaving me dangling?”

            “It was supposed to be a surprise!”

            “Well, believe me, it’s been a surprising night.”

            “Could we have a do-over, then?” asked Vince. “The party should be going on for a few more hours yet. We could take the cab back home. I could go up first, get myself comfy, then you could walk in and I could jump up and yell ‘surprise’.”

            “Yeah? What comes after that?” Howard found himself smiling naturally, now. It wouldn’t leave his face. At some point during their conversation, he’d leaned both arms against the roof of the cab, on either side of Vince, who didn’t seem to particularly mind.

            “I actually hadn’t planned that far ahead,” admitted Vince. “We could play Chutes and Ladders?”

            “What about Scrabble?”

            “I hate that game. What about Go Fish?”

            “…I’d prefer not to Go Fish tonight.”

            Vince shrugged one shoulder. “It’s all right. I’m sure we’ll think of something.” He smiled up at Howard in that way that Howard had remembered earlier: that shy little smile with the big eyes. He even bit his lip a little. “We could watch a movie, or bake some cookies, or…whatever, really.”

            Howard felt funny. He was light-headed, and he could feel a tingling from his lower lip down through his abdomen. “Yeah,” he said, stupidly, “whatever.”

            The distance between them had closed remarkably within the last couple of minutes, much to both of their surprise. Not a single part of one was touching the other, but they were so close to it that they could feel the heat of their bodies filling the miniscule space between them. Vince licked his lips and was about to say something, when some movement just behind Howard caught his eye.

            “Duck, Howard!” He threw himself and Howard down to the asphalt as a wheelbarrow was smashed down over the top of the cab, in the exact spot where they’d been standing, leaving a dent. Old Gregg hefted it up over his head again, and towered over them both with a mad gleam in his eyes.

            “I told you to keep your hands offa Howard, you little home-wrecker,” Old Gregg snarled. “Howard loves _me_. He’s gonna be the daddy of my guppy-babies!” With a howl, he brought the barrow smashing down just beside Howard’s head, causing both Howard and Vince to scream.

            “We’re gonna be married, and maybe we’ll invite you. We’ll bake you into the cake and eat you up like a cream filling! I’m Old Gregg!” As he was winding up to bring the barrow down on them again, Vince dove into the cab, yanking on Howard’s arm.

            “In here, Howard!”

            Howard clambered in after him, just before the wheelbarrow clanged against the road once more. He slammed the door shut behind him, and locked it, as Vince shrieked to the driver, “Take us back to Hackney! The Nabootique! Step on it!”

           “I’M OLD GREGG!” Gregg screeched. The cab’s tires squealed through a U-turn, and Old Gregg chucked the wheelbarrow at the rapidly-escaping taxi. It bounced off the hood and clattered onto the road, and Howard and Vince were thrown back into their seats. Within seconds, they were off the bridge and speeding back into town.

           Gregg kept screaming after it.

           “I’m gonna come after you, Howard!” he hollered. “I’m gonna chop up that little floozy who bewitched you, all up into little pieces, and feed him to our children! I’ll save you from that shiny little sorcerer, Howard! I’m gonna find you! I’m Old—”

           But he didn’t get to finish, because at that moment a lorry smashed into him from behind, and he bounced off the grill of it into the air and flat onto the windshield, at which point he blacked out.  When he came to, he was seated in the passenger seat of the very same truck that hit him.

           “Where am I?” he slurred.  He looked, with some effort, up at the driver.  “Who are you?”

           The driver slowly pulled his eyes from the road, and, with a tip of his hat, fixed him with a nasty yellow smile.

           “They call me The Hitcher,” was the green-skinned driver’s reply. “And what, may I ask, is your name, my boy?”

           Dazedly, Gregg glanced around for a moment before replying.

           “I’m Old Gregg.”

 

           The cab driver never did slow down, even when Old Gregg was well out of sight. They made it back to the shop in about three minutes, though they did mow down several stop signs, bushes and a gazebo along the way. When they came to a screeching halt in front of the Nabootique, it took Howard and Vince an additional two minutes to stop screaming.

           They stumbled out of the cab before remembering that they still had to pay for the ride.  Shaking, Howard bent down to address the driver through the window.

           “H-how much do we…owe you?” he asked, realizing mid-sentence that he seemed to be speaking to a small blond child.

           “Don’t mention it,” the boy replied. “It’s not actually my cab. I’m just out for a bit of a joyride.”

           Howard felt, as a concerned citizen, that he should comment on this in some way; but after the night he’d had, he was too confused, shaken and exhausted to come up with anything other than, “Well, have a nice night, then.”

           “Should do,” said the boy. “I’m off to Stumpy McFucky’s next.”

           “…Sounds great.”  Howard left it at that, turning to the door to their building, which Vince had already unlocked and staggered through. He could hear his clumpy boots making their way up the stairs to the flat.

           Vince was sprawled out on the sofa by the time Howard got up the stairs. He wouldn’t have even seen him there at all, if not for the white boots dangling over one of the armrests. He joined him in the living room, and Vince gazed at him, upside-down, with his head lolling over the other armrest.

           “Hi.”

           “Hi.”  Howard took a seat in the nearest armchair and forced a smile, for Vince’s sake. “I’m thinking maybe we should do a rain check on that private party. Not that I don’t appreciate the thought, but you look as exhausted as I feel.”

           Vince seemed as alarmed as one could be without actually moving. “Do I have circles under my eyes?” he asked.

           “No.”

           Relieved, Vince nodded. “Okay, good.” His thoughts then returned to the first half of what Howard had said. “Are you sure, though? I mean, we could brew up some coffee…”

           Howard smiled for real this time, though somewhat resignedly as he rubbed a hand over his face. “If you really want to, Vince, then I’m fine with that.”

           “Well, no, if you don’t want to…”

           There was silence for a moment as Howard thought about it. “What I honestly want right now,” he said, “is for the two of us to get in our pyjamas, get into bed, and curl up under the covers. Maybe we will sleep and maybe we won’t just yet. Maybe we’ll talk for a while, or maybe we can read a book together.” His voice was soft and soothing, the only sound reverberating through their otherwise silent home. “What I don’t want right now, after all that’s happened, is to go to bed by myself. I rather think that would just be inviting trouble, the way my luck’s been running. So it’s up to you, little man. We can do whatever you want to do. It’s your night.”

           Vince was beaming. “That sounds nice, actually. The bed bit. I’d be up for that.”

           Howard nodded and stood. “Any preferences or requests, then? Book or no book, for example?”

           Vince furrowed his brow and screwed up his mouth, pondering the question. “I’ll think it over. You go get your jim-jams on and all that.”

           Howard didn’t need to be asked twice. He went to the bathroom first, which was where he heard Vince call out his first request, presumably from still in the living room.

           “Okay, I’ve decided. Bring the book, but keep it on the night stand for now. I dunno if I want it first thing.”

           “Which book?” Howard asked.

           “I dunno, something about space ships or pirates or something. Just none of your detective stories tonight, all right?”

           “Your loss.”

           Howard washed his hands and face, brushed his teeth, and then made his way to their bedroom. It was a small flat, with only two bedrooms for four occupants, but Vince and Howard had never felt inconvenienced by this. And for economic reasons, they’d only bought the one bed, both because one bed was cheaper than two, and because two people in one bed saved on heat in the winter. There were, of course, also unspoken personal reasons. When they were young, Vince had been prone to nightmares, and would often crawl into bed with whoever he happened to be living with at the time. When he and Howard had become friends, and one would sleep over at the other’s home, Vince would inevitably end up in the same bed as Howard, regardless of where they might have started out. Now they were older, and were so used to it that Vince said he needed Howard to sleep near him in order to sleep at all: not because of nightmares anymore, but just because he was used to it, now. It didn’t bother Howard, really. He was used to it now, too.

          That was all it was, of course.

          He heard Vince close himself into the bathroom, and call out to him again.

          “Okay, second adjustment. I’ve put the kettle on. I’m bringing you some tea, and I’m gonna have some hot cocoa.”

          “You’d better not spill on the sheets,” Howard warned as he pulled off his socks.

          He thought he heard Vince laughing, but maybe he just imagined it. “I’ll try,” he said.

          Howard finished getting into his flannel nightwear, and browsed over his book shelf for a title that Vince might like. He decided to go with a simpler, smaller book, one kept from back when they were kids. He didn’t think either of them would be able to stay awake long enough for anything longer. He could hear Vince in the kitchen, pulling a couple of mugs out of a cabinet.

          “Third thing,” Vince called. “Close your eyes until I get in there. Don’t open them until I tell you to.”

          Howard frowned. “I’ll fall asleep.”

          “I don’t care. I’ll wake you.”

          “Fine.”  He put the book down on the nightstand, pulled back the covers on his side of the bed and slipped in. Once reclined on the mattress, he could feel every ache over the whole of his body beginning to soothe. He sighed contentedly and nestled under the covers, then remembered Vince’s request, and closed his eyes.

          He heard Vince slowly make his way into the room a few minutes later. He first walked around to Howard’s side and placed a cup on his nightstand. As he walked back around the bed to his own side, Howard could hear him sipping from his own mug, which smelled quite wonderful, even though he himself didn’t generally like sugary things right before bed.

          “Can I open my eyes now?” asked Howard, somewhat impatiently.

          “Just a second.” He heard Vince’s cup being set down on his bedside table, then the rustling of sheets. He felt the bed shake as Vince got into bed, and soon after that, a warmth curled up at his side.

          “I made one final executive decision,” Vince informed him.

          “What was that?” Howard asked.

          Vince pressed closer to him, and Howard felt bare flesh against the back of his hand.

          “I decided I didn’t feel like wearing pyjamas,” said Vince.

          Howard opened his eyes. Vince was draped over his left side, and definitely not wearing a shirt. Their blankets covered the rest of him.

          After a moment, Howard said, “…All right.”

          Vince was staring at him, looking strangely…concerned? “Are you really all right with it? If you aren’t, just say so.”

          Twitchingly, Howard shrugged, hoping to appear nonchalant. “Makes no difference to me. Not like I’ve never seen you in your pants before.”

          Vince replied with a little smirk. “I’m not wearing pants, Howard.”

          “Ah.”

          A moment passed. Then Vince sat up a little, and reached for his mug again. He drained it in a few gulps. Afterwards, he turned off the light on his side, and settled back under the covers.

          “I think you were right to begin with,” he said. “Maybe we should just go to sleep.”

          Howard hadn’t even touched his tea. “It is pretty late.”

          “We’ve been through a lot. A solid night’s sleep would do us a lot of good.”

          “It would.”

          Another pause.

          “I’ll get the light,” said Howard. And he did.  Then he settled down, turning onto his side and pulling the blankets up to his neck. Vince had already done so, and was facing away from him, but as Howard’s movements slowed to stillness, Vince pushed himself backward, closer to Howard, and reached back, pulling Howard’s arm over him. He pressed Howard’s hand to his chest, then weaved their fingers together.

          “G’night, Howard.”

          Howard found his mouth was right up against Vince’s ear, now, so he spoke as softly as he could. “Good night, Vince.”

          They both laid awake for a while. After some time had passed, Howard found himself idly trailing his hand back and forth over Vince’s chest; slowly and gently. Vince responded by pressing himself as close to Howard as was physically possible, his bare back to Howard’s clothed front. Howard brought his other arm out from under his pillow and scooped it underneath Vince, wrapping him fully in his arms. He held him tightly for a good few minutes before Vince reached up, his fingers brushing the underside of Howard’s jaw and chin, and craned his neck back to look Howard in the eyes. They just stared at each other for a few beats. Then Vince’s fingers curled more firmly around Howard’s face, and they pressed their lips together.

          Kissing Vince was a world apart from what he’d experienced with Old Gregg. Gregg had kissed like a starved man, taking in all he could get and not caring how sloppy he was about it. Not to mention the coldness of his tongue. Vince was warm – hot, even – and the kiss started out delicately. A series of short, gentle, almost (but not quite) chaste kisses that led up to Vince turning himself around to face Howard fully, draping his leg over his hip, and humming softly into his mouth as his tongue met Howard’s. The kiss was caressing, exploring; still hungry, but more with the desire to savour than to satiate.

          Fingers combed through Howard’s hair, teeth nipped lightly at Howard’s lip, and Howard had no idea what he was supposed to do but he figured Vince would probably like done to him whatever he was doing to Howard, so he did that, all the while crushing Vince ever closer to him, because they were alive and together and they could _feel_ each other and he had to know it was all real, and it seemed like Vince needed the same thing, because the kiss grew more desperate and something hard brushed against the bulge in Howard’s pyjama bottoms, which Howard had been feeling nervous about right up until Vince, discovering it, pulled his lips away from Howard’s with another, louder moan and a gasp. Vince’s eyes were slightly glazed; he looked like he was drunk, except that Howard had never seen him look at him like _that_ while he was drunk.

          “Hey, Howard.” Vince’s voice came from low in his throat; rough, like he’d forgotten exactly how talking used to work.

          “Yeah,” said Howard, between loud, shaky breaths, as Vince’s hand trailed down, back under the covers, and his fingers found their way beneath his waistband.

          “You still worried about spillin’ on the sheets?”

          As the fabric was pulled away from Howard’s skin, and a hand wrapped around his length, he groaned and rolled over, on top of Vince, who managed a cheeky grin through the haze of lust.

          “Shut up, Vince,” said Howard, before closing the space between them once more.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

[1] “Having two of the same name is well wicked, Howard!  You should do it; it would suit you.  Howard Howard.  It makes you sound like a Library Adventurer, which would be way cooler than it sounds,” Vince had babbled earlier in the party.  Howard had tuned him out somewhere after that, only occasionally catching further burblings from Vince’s stream of consciousness.  Things like “fighting wild bookworms with letter openers!”, and “Indiana Jones of the Periodicals Section!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks be to Nikki.


End file.
